


won't stop dying, won't stop lying

by Pixielle



Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: (no one permanently dies outside of canonical deaths i would never), (they're 25 and 28 fyi), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bart Allen is the Flash, Canon Compliant through S3: Outsiders, Excessive Descriptions of Hotels bc I Miss Traveling, Future Fic, Jaime is a Doctor in Residency, M/M, Soulmates, Speed Force, Temporary Character Death, so they're grown grown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixielle/pseuds/Pixielle
Summary: “To destroy is easier than to create, and that is why so many people are ready to demonstrate against what they reject. But what would they say if one asked them what they wanted instead?”— Ivan Klíma{ - J & B are older, ten+ years on, living their super and non-super independent lives. And they also meet up in a not-so-seedy hotel in Keystone City occasionally. It’s “chill.”- Bart got lost for a while. In the speed force. It was a fun time for exactly no one involved and he’s still dealing with the aftermath months on. }
Relationships: Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	won't stop dying, won't stop lying

**Author's Note:**

> i started this thing over a year and a half ago (when the world was an entirely different place). i was still writing my last Bluepulse fic when i started outlining this one, that’s how long it’s been in my drafts! however, this is finished, and i'm simply finishing up editing the end of this and i figured it was safe to start posting it. if you're still into bluepulse in the year of our lord almost 2k21 you're a real one, i love you and trust you with my life.
> 
> and also, this started out as as an infidelity based fic but like? i dunno, i don’t have it in me to write a detailed cheating fic (my heart can’t do it, and tbh it seems like a boring romance novel plot so i don’t know what my brain was on about the day when i outlined this). they’re my “speedforce soulmates” as always, but there’s another relationship in the midst that is causing internal conflict. take that for what it is and nothing more. mostly this is just an atmosphere-focused character study, like my writing always is.
> 
> tonal songs for those who like them: everything i wanted - billie eilish, the jetset life is gonna kill you - mcr, let it happen - tame impala, amor de siempre - cuco, désolé - gorillaz, far too young to die + the end of all things - patd
> 
> title from cemetery drive by my chemical romance, section breaks from busted and blue by gorillaz.

_Beam a light on me_  
_I am a satellite_  
_And I can't get back without you_

Bart tries not to lie to himself as much as possible anymore.

He spent so many years lying. 

Lying to survive, to protect other people, the people he loved, to keep himself sane, but now- he’s good. With a lot of work, his mental health is so much better than it once was. And while some things obviously still have to stay under wraps with the teams being more public now, the relationships he’s built with **all** of the people on them are real.

But… 

Bart has accepted that this probably makes him a bad person by the current time’s standards. At least he’s not like a supervillain, wrecking Metropolis. Or shattering the statue of his grandfather in Central City into a million tiny shards. Or…

Most people break a few hearts in their lives and living while pretending to be virtuous is far harder than just snapping it between his fingers. But to him, there’s a comfort in secrecy. Comfort in lying. Comfort in reveling in something that he shouldn’t do, beneath it all. 

Like somehow this is a justified mission just because she decided on the two of them being together decades before Bart was even born. Slungshot Bart back through time for him because Bug’s a **good** person. Whenever they’re apart too long, she intervenes. It used to annoy him, but Bart’s done fighting. They’re done fighting.

===

_Til we're invisible_  
_I'm with you through altitudes_  
_Busted and blue_

He’s in a mediocre (but surprisingly clean) chain hotel on the outskirts of Keystone City. Bart happens to be obsessed with their awesome pool, and most importantly, the Zeta tube’s conveniently located for the less speedy half of this.

Bart finally rises from underneath the surface, hair slicking against the nape of his neck as the tension breaks. It’s nearing midnight, and while normally the pool would be closed by now, the manager knows him (as a trusted regular, thankfully not as the Flash) and gave him permission. 

The water is calming to Bart, like little else is. 

It’s funny to him that such a simple thing as a glorified oversized bucket of water can make him so introspective, but he’s thankful for it. He can’t actually swim more than mild doggy paddling, it wasn't something that was ever important, but at his height it doesn't matter anymore (as he can pretty much always reach the bottom). But wading and floating allows him to release the ever-present constriction on the tendons and muscles wrapping around his lower body. 

The first time it happened, it had scared him. Mostly because he didn’t feel compelled to run for the first time since being uncollared, and even more he didn’t yearn for that feeling like the collar made him. The surprised near-fear had been clear on his own expression, and he explained the sensation to the quizzical face in front of him. The slowpoke had gone on to say something medically scientific about “mammalian diving instinct” and “did you know that babies can still breathe underwater immediately upon birth?” and something else about the soothing nature of a buoyant force on the body… But Bart had faded out, the stress of the situation leaching out of him as he lets down his guard, slipping lower into the water, and the beautiful voice talking at him slides through his mind like honey. 

Now, years later, he floats on as he stares at the pale, high ceiling. The knots in the wood are distracting as he floats on between the sporadic skylights above, the sensation once again wrapping around him, like a bubble begging to be popped.

Waiting.

He should be here soon, his residency shift done at ten. The fact that he insisted on coming even after twelve hours at the hospital doesn’t ever not stun Bart. Being a member of the Justice League is nothing next to that. 

It makes Bart want him even more. 

He leans up, big hair slicking down flat against his skull, and wades towards the side of the pool. There’s a wall with intermittent glass panels in between here and check-in, and after leaning there contentedly for a few moments, Bart sees him walk up to the desk. 

He’s in black basketball shorts and an ancient navy tshirt from early undergrad that’s obviously edging on too small as it clings to him, a slim line of warm brown skin peeking out at the plane of his hip. His backpack is slung over his shoulders, with his dorky massive water bottle tucked in the side pocket (all of the above signs directly indicating his having come directly from work). 

The night manager slides over the extra keycard Bart left with a smile after a short conversation, before tilting her head towards the pool. He nods his thanks before turning, Bart making fleeting eye contact with him before dunking himself out of the other’s line of sight.

Even underwater, Bart hears the beep of the card and the heavy door handle turn, sees the shadow of him walking up to one of the random chairs lining the pool and dropping his bag onto it. Bart surfaces as quietly as possible, nose the lowest thing above water. 

The whole scene is fantastical and secluding in the best way for Bart’s mind, like the entire world is merely acting as a backdrop. The dissociative bubble of it moving out and expanding to accept someone else. The faint buffering of water against filters is the only sound beyond them gently toeing their shoes off. He pads around the edge for a bit to find a dry spot to sit, and ends up towards the deep end. He leans back on his hands, eyes skyward, as he drops his feet into the water. His eyes close and deep breaths stutter out at the feeling. Bart moves forward slowly, hands outstretching underwater towards him. He flinches slightly at first contact but as Bart takes his legs in his hands, pressing his thumbs in along the other’s ankles and arches of their feet, more groans fall.

“Long day, Blue?” Murmured, careful not to force the room to echo. He knows it was, but he asks anyway.

“Mhmm… Nothing too emotionally taxing, thankfully,” Jaime kicks his legs a bit against the other’s hands, before looking down to him, a tired smile spreading onto his face, “But yes, long. And incredible.” 

And Bart, hand to God, sees Jaime’s eyes twinkle, somehow, in the dark; not unlike an anime character. It makes Bart want to roll his own at the sheer cheesiness of it, Bart already loves Jaime, she doesn’t need to keep pushing them, but the desire doesn’t move beyond his mind. Maybe Jaime just is that good, Bart will never really know. 

But does he doubt it? 

...

Not in the slightest.

Bart’s shoulders have gone cold as they dry above the surface of the water, despite the humidity of the room. A wracking shiver runs across them like invisible wings unfurling as he presses his clammy cheek to Jaime’s knee. Even with the oppressive chlorine surrounding them, he smells like freshly showered after work Jaime, and the ever present sting of rubbing alcohol beneath it. Bart **loves** that. It’s unlike everything he left behind that’s forever ingrained in his mind, dirty, grimey, grey, and he can’t possibly get enough. 

His hands crawl up the other’s legs to brace on the ledge beside his knees, pushing himself up into Jaime’s personal space. And Jaime just moves in to kiss him like it’s second nature and not a modern delinquency, like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing. Jaime’s lips are rough-hewn on his, and it makes Bart think that the dry desert summer paired with Jaime’s self negligence habit may be taking a toll. But then they shift against him, and the thought flies away.

And when Jaime’s hands roll along past Bart’s ribcage to trail up his spine for a second, feeling along the notches of the column, Bart’s arms start shaking. The hesitant digits come forwards to run along his upper arms as they flutter, and Bart drops back down into the water, limbs buckling under the tension. 

The splash shocks them both apart, Jaime’s hands going up in a defensive position on impulse to try to keep his clothes dry, and Bart quickly breathes out a hushed apology. The silence as Bart stretches out his arms should be awkward, Bart knows this, but it isn’t. 

For some reason, he wishes it was. 

Bart grabs at Jaime’s legs one last time, trying to be reassuring, before wading down a few feet and dragging himself up and out of the pool. It’s torture to lift himself out of the cool water into the humid, thick air of the room but he does it without too much complaint, just a quiet disgruntled noise when the feeling envelopes him. He seats himself alongside the other, eyes following Bart through the motions in a way that’s unsubtle but also has that feeling of warmth running up his spine like Jaime’s hands did a moment ago. 

He leans away to reach out of range towards a towel he’d left purposefully and it gets thrown around his shoulders for the time being as he runs his hands through his hair, fluffing it away from his face. When he straightens up and looks over towards Jaime, the other’s expression is simply pensive as he (still) watches Bart fuss about. Jaime’s head drops, fluffy unfixed hair falling in a dark fan that dims the shine on his eyes. Smoky quartz extinguished in the darkness. There’s almost an air of cowedness to his face before he shakes his head, tucking his one side of his bangs behind his ear, paralleling.

And then he reaches out, Bart nearly flinching out of his grasp because he’s still soaked and doesn’t want to coat Jaime’s clothes in chlorine. But Jaime has him in a bear hug that makes him stutter out a near-silent whimper at how tight it is, goosebumps plucking up along where they’re pressed together. Jaime’s face is tilted towards just behind Bart’s ear, dry hair gently brushing along the damp skin in a way that really tickles. 

“I missed you.”

The hushed words finally register after a second. And they’re not angry, they’re not possessive, they’re just sad. Unbidden dejection and a vaguely despondent undertone riding alongside and Bart’s impulse is to grab onto Jaime and hold on just as tightly as Jaime is him. So he does.

===

 _So amplify the sirens_  
_And to find real amends_  
_I'm through the echo-chambers_  
_To other worlds I went_

“Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

Bart drops the towel in the basket at the door and holds out his hand. Jaime takes it, and it remains a warm tether as they walk out through the aggressively air conditioned hotel towards the elevator. Perfectly formed goosebumps raise onto his unclothed torso and limbs in a way that feels… good, pleasurable, but the cold leaves him comfortably on edge. 

His bare feet pad along the thin acrylic carpeting, a bit too carefree, but he had insisted Jaime take his sandals and it’s late, no one to judge him anyways. The hand attached to his squeezes it when Bart’s teeth start to chatter, thumb rubbing emphatically along the top. 

The banally decorated, identical corridors are empty and lacking of anyone but them and Bart absolutely loves it. It’s like they’re in a time capsule that will never be broken into. Breaking… That famous Joker quote about omelettes and breaking eggs appears in his mind, but the sheer amount of irony for their situation is too spot on for him to actually appreciate it.

He’s still encrusted with chlorine, skin tightened around him like a snake’s shed, but his hair has flash dried in the cold, dry air. It makes the baby hairs around his face fly free and tickle the sensitive skin of his face and neck, giving the sensation of needing to sneeze without any resolution. 

That’s what a lot of this feels like. 

A guitar string tuned too tightly, about to snap but not quite there; yet you still brace yourself for the impact. 

An inexperienced trapeze artist wavering during their walk as you wait with bated breath for tragedy.

The edge is addicting, in that way.

He can’t stop turning the keycard over and over in his free hand, anticipatory energy in him ramping up with each step they take. But he doesn’t run ahead, doesn’t hurry. He holds onto Jaime’s hand all the way to the door, waving the card in front of the sensor and leading the other in. They stand in the doorway, tone halting but, still, not awkward. 

When Bart looks up to Jaime inquisitively as he bends to go through his duffel for something to get out of his swim trunks, a sideways grin drops onto Jaime’s face. It reads as “Yes, I actually do want to be here, with you.” but without paying lip service to anyone undeserving of it.

After seeing Bart’s expression turn from concerned hyperactive to a more contented hyperactive, Jaime slides his backpack off of his shoulders and sets it down near the open door of the closet. He walks towards the nearest bed and sits with his back against the headboard, pulling his phone and charger from his pocket. Once he turns his screen on and sees his notifications, Bart hears a laugh, warm and low.

“Milagro says she missed you too- she’s considering CCU and wants a character recommendation from the entity whom she described as “The Flash™”.”

Bart flinches.

“Wouldn’t she prefer an actual GL? I’m sure Kyle would be happy to see you two again on better terms. Or even Hal?” Bart knows this is a longshot, but he says it anyways.

“Nah, specifically for Central City, she wanted you.”

“No, you said she wanted the Flash.” he says matter of factly, before finally freeing a pair of boxers and a tank top from the bottom with a yank.

An air of hesitancy emerges.

There’s the awkward.

The bubble, it popped.

Finally.

“... Unless something’s changed…”

Bart sighs under his breath as he stands, unable to hide his weariness. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation, they’ve had so many excuses not to in the past months. 

"Just haven't felt very Justice League worthy since… getting back."

Jaime sucks on his teeth, the noise abruptly startling Bart into looking at him. His forehead scrunches up as he drops his phone onto the bed and pulls his knees up towards his chest protectively, heels digging into the fluffy duvet with no hesitation at all. He can practically feel Jaime’s frustration in the air, it’s so palpable to him. Bart empathises, at the very least.

“So…” Breathe in. “Stop.”

Bart’s brain spins that statement around a few times at high speeds like he’s trying to solve a Rubik's cube, trying to digest any part of it. It’s only two words, and really only one meaningful one, but it still doesn’t process like he wants it to.

“I can’t. Don’t tell me that that’s an option because it’s not.”

Between clenched teeth, “Why not?”

“I’m back here for a reason, Jaime. I have to make use of the time I have, you know as well as I do that worthiness in the public eye isn’t something you earn and have forever. And with the time I was gone the rogues have… they’ve...”

By the time Bart runs out of bullshit and looks up, Jaime is holding onto the end of his shorts, looking down at it as he rubs the shiny material between his thumb and forefinger. An anxious self soothing texture tick that Bart’s seen him do casually since… since they were children.

They were goddamn children.

In moods like this his words are crisp, direct, and to the point, even more than normal, and it has always raised Bart’s hackles at the tone. Moreso because Jaime can’t meet his eyes as he talks, a spitting cobra in the flesh.

“It has nothing to do with being worthy, and you know it. You’ve been focusing solely on this for the better part of two decades, Bart. You’re worn out, and there will always be a world to save, whether or not you’re on the front lines.” 

His voice raises slowly as the pain in it becomes more apparent. 

Bart attempts to speak in the interim, “That’s no reason not to tr-”

“You fucking died, Bart!”

The slightly louder exclamation rings in the quiet room, and Bart cringes, closing his mouth. The anger on Jaime’s face is frozen in time when they both take pause, eyes finally flicking up to look at him.

“I-I… thought you died,” Whispered, as tears begin to slowly build in the inner corners of his eyes, “When you disappeared, I grieved you. And you, now, less than three months later, throwing around your life like it means nothing, it fucking hurts, Bart.”

The tether, it snaps. Bart’s clothes are thrown at the end of the bed and he’s at Jaime’s side before he finishes saying Bart’s name. But he pauses when he sees genuine fear in the swirling dark brown eyes looking up at him, and Bart pulls his overbearing hand back from Jaime’s knee. But the other seizes it.

“We broke up.” 

Jaime’s right hand goes to the place where the spinner engagement band was missing. The vacancy was now beaming like a neon sign, the line worn in of a long, empty engagement still there. Bart has zero idea how he possibly missed it earlier. Jaime’s hand wrings around it, longing for the crutch to soothe some of his anxiety. But the brushed silver is gone.

It makes Bart feel... frazzled. 

This isn’t wrong. 

Not anymore.

“You were… You were dead and I… I couldn’t keep lying about why I was so... None of us knew anything about the speedforce, and then you came back and I… I…”

Livewires cut open, exposing Bart’s inner nerves. Emotions finally bubble and he doesn’t know which ones to hold onto and which ones to quash down so they sit just beneath his Adam’s apple, boiling his vocal cords. 

The speedster drops to his knees, his tears pool and fall, silently. No energy to actually sob. And he thinks of Wally, even now. 

His cousin’s ghost still holds so much pain for him over a decade later, pain he hides. Probably always will. He saw her hidden pain in Artemis’ eyes when Bart returned. Alone. A nod of understanding; her resignation in knowing it was truly over. 

He hadn’t seen Jaime’s pain then. Now it was there, clear as day. It makes Bart wonder how much he’s missed about Jaime over the years.

But at least now he truly understood. She sent him back to save him. Again. It wasn’t just a false chance, or a shot in the dark.

Eyes meet, recognition clear and concise. 

He hears Jaime take a deep breath as he leans to pull the other up towards him but Bart’s already there, moving into his space. Bart wraps his arms around Jaime's neck, sitting up on his knees in front of him on the bed. Lips touch, graze, press, and they break apart minutely as Jaime reaches up to thumb away gathered tears on Bart’s face. This makes Bart smile, blinking rapidly to clear the last of them as he nods.

“I missed you, too.”

  
\---

  
Even as an extremely tactile person, the feeling of skin on skin is something Bart really takes for granted. Human touch, like so many other things, was so rare and foreign to him when he landed in the past. And by that, he means the first time, when it was of his own volition. Back then, he unashamedly used Jaime as a desensitization mat of sorts, a simple excuse was always nearby and easy to form, second-nature. And then… it became a secret. Boundaries, clean cut, lifting and lowering easily, as necessary. 

But now, they’re gone. 

What Bart interpreted as comfort in his secrets was just comfort in the known. Holding them close to him in times of pain was soothing, like cold aloe vera dripping over a blistering, red-hot sunburn. Like he had a safety net, to fall back on.

But he’s not burning anymore. Far from it. For the first time, he feels anchored and safe, the floor and ceiling and walls holding onto him instead as he really feels for once. And to feel, as he’s discovered, is incredible.

A hand, calloused and dry from excessive amounts of alcohol based sanitizers, curls around the soft part of his inner forearm. Another grasps at his hip, pulling him towards the other like he’s going to run, to bolt at any moment. If either of them wanted or needed, they could both be miles apart from each other in seconds without any restriction. The fact that he knows they won’t ever have to again makes Bart smile into where their lips are moving together. 

The energy emanating off of Jaime is compelling and different, like everything else right now. Intense, occasionally breathing fierce peaks of adrenaline into their pent up movements. They’re rolling around like teenagers in a dark room, teeth still clacking as they refuse to separate from one another. 

It’s an experience they never got to have. But Bart isn’t sad about it. He thinks that even if they had crossed the line back then, it wouldn’t have ever actually been like this. They were too scared, nothing more than traumatized kids searching for the reason why they got to live out of the billions of timelines that ended, and will always end, in tragedy and despair. 

They weren’t capable of feeling this yet.

Bart finds a lot of actual, tangible comfort that it wasn’t meant to happen that way, so she wouldn’t have let it. She really was always looking out for them.

Warm breath ghosts over his jaw as he’s turned onto his back, the hand that curled around his forearm is now pressing it into the pillow above his head. Bart tilts his head back, showing a bit more of his neck to the open air. 

Teeth graze along it and a whimper stutters out of his mouth, free hand moving from Jaime’s arm up to tie up in the other’s hair. It’s long, the longest it has ever been, and Bart was surprised at how much he loved it when he came back. 

He holds Jaime there for a moment as his head tilts back even more, desperation cropping up. Jaime moves back against his hand a bit in reaction to the sudden tension, but eventually presses his lips back to his shoulder, kissing a line across the skin there. Bart’s breathing breaks into a whine when Jaime moves minutely back from him. 

**_"God…"_ **

The whispered word shoots realization down Bart’s spine, eyes opening and effectively returning to his body after floating away for a second. The flush to the pale skin of his face and ears deepens to a maroon as he looks down to Jaime to gauge his reaction. Jaime doesn’t seem perturbed, if anything his gaze comes across a bit reverential, but Bart still feels the need to talk it away.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know wha-”

“No, don’t apologize.” The vague look on his face grows into a small, contented smile. “That’s you.” 

Jaime seems to realize the position he’s in at that moment when given a second to breathe, and he releases the hand that’s restricting Bart’s movement. He looks at his own hand with an odd expression for a second, the only way Bart can describe it is a bit sleepy but still concerned, before he shimmies off to lie next to him. He wraps him up in a hug, pulling Bart into his arms. 

It’s warm, it’s all so warm. 

Jaime’s scorching him in a way that neither water nor fire could and it’s all Bart has ever wanted. The warmth of humanity pulses inside Jaime differently than anyone else on this Earth, on **any** Earth, in any time or reality could. And maybe that’s why Bart’s still here. He could build another time machine if he wanted, soak his body in chronotron radiation once again for him, fight the speed force, satisfy the curiosity inside of everyone. 

But he won’t. 

After everything, he has allowed himself to be selfish about one thing, and it still feels wrong until Jaime’s arms around him.

After a few short moments, a light mumble dances through the darkness.

“I… er… the 30 plus hours without sleep seems to be… lowering my inhibi-” A sharp yawn interrupts Jaime and it makes Bart shake with a near silent laugh, “it’s not my fault, it’s catching up to me… I’m really sorry if I...”

“Go to sleep, querido, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Bart murmurs back as he pushes against him with his hand.

“Sure… sure…” Jaime says, moving back in to press a few more haphazard kisses to Bart’s face. Just his... general facial region, Bart observes, as he nearly gets poked in the eye with the wayward pair of lips. Bart nearly barks out a “Hey!” on impulse but contains it to a small flinch, squeaking.

The air conditioning kicks on and after a moment, Bart wiggles down a bit and pulls the bunched up duvet over the two of them. Jaime hums as the warmth starts to cocoon around both of them. 

Time’s moving so slowly for Bart as he contentedly rubs a thumb soothingly along Jaime’s shoulder blade through his shirt in a rhythm, but it still surprises him when Jaime speaks. His speech is quiet, just above a whisper.

“Wait, did you just call me querido?” He sounds vaguely amused in the quiet.

“I… Did I?” Bart genuinely doesn’t know, if he did it was naturally without any forethought.

“I think so....” Bart’s head is tucked up under the other’s chin and when air puffs out of Jaime’s nose in the languorous pause, Bart feels his hair move, “where did you even hear that?”

He thinks for a picosecond before spouting the near-obvious, “Probably around your house back in the day? Is it bad? Or slang?”

“Makes sense,” Jaime rumbles out as his breath deepens with sleep, ignoring his extraneous questions, “It’s what my mom usually calls my dad.”

…  
…  
...

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Barts laugh is boisterous in the dark and Jaime’s arms wrap tighter around him, 

“You don’t need to apologize. You have no idea how captivated I am by you.”

Jaime’s sleepy voiced whisper curls in amongst Bart’s mind like a cat bathing in sunlight, and his breath leaves him for a second.

“I’m starting to get the picture.”

===

  
Inhale.

Touch.

Exhale.

Kiss.

Inhale.

Speak.

Exhale.

Cry.

Inhale.

Run.

Exhale.

Fly.

Inhale.

Pull.

Exhale.

Push.

Inhale.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Just… 

Just breathe.

Please!

Exhale.

Bleed.

  
Exhale.

Break.

  
Exhale.

Die.

  
Exhale.

Gone.


End file.
